Requires a miracle
by safetywords
Summary: [Miracle] Miracles happen to those who believe in them.
1. Day One

Author's Note: This is my continuation of the movie 'Miracle'. It takes place, roughly, about the year 1998. I promise it's worth the look into. I worked, gruelingly, to make this an acceptable piece of writing. I know this is probably quite a stretch from most things, but give this story a chance.

Title: Requires a Miracle

Summary: Miracles happen to those who believe in them.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the quotes, real people (obviously), or anything about the movie Miracle. I wrote this to be completely fictional.

_-prologue-_

_July 10th, 1986_

Mike Eruzione watched in utter disbelief as his youngest daughter, Sara, scored her very first goal against her brother, Josh, who was already the best hockey player at his age. Sara started to jump up and down, overly pleased with her performance against her invincible brother. She started to skate in a circle, laughing as the cold wind tickled her nose. Her father could only stare in awe. Not only had his first child been blessed with the talent to play hockey, but the same went for his daughter.

Stunned, he skated across the ice to where Sara was laughing. A smile was permanently stuck on his face as he bent over, and crushed her in a bear hug.

"Honey, where did you learn to play like that?"

Mike, being a part of the 1980 miracle team, knew that it just wasn't talent passed down through the generations of his family. Still, he couldn't even begin to fathom how Sara, a very girlie-girl, managed to advance at a sport that few women had ever succeeded in.

Instead of giving the answer that Mike had expected, she gave him the one that left him completely baffled.

"I watch lots of hockey."

Somehow, he knew there was a lot more to it than that, so he just let it slide- thinking that he had a very own miracle on his hand. As he skated off of the ice, Josh followed behind closely. He was complaining like a six-year-old would, and he kept on insisting that his sister had managed to cheat.

"Girls can't play hockey."

"Hockey isn't for girls."

However Josh phrased it, it only seemed to further upset his father.

"Josh, send your sister in as goalie, and you take your ten shots. After that, we'll go in for dinner. Understood?" Obediently, Josh nodded his head, and once he reached his sister- he started taking off his padding for Sara to wear.

"Let's see you block my shots," he fired, competitively, as he skated halfway from the net. Three pucks were sitting in a row. Taking the middle one, he started to glide towards the goal with one objective in mind: get the puck in no matter what. Once he was about five or so feet away, he took a slap shot and watched as the puck started to rise as it came closer to Sara. Next thing he knew, his sister was lying on the floor, crying, with a bloody forehead.

Mike ran towards his daughter, and managed to sooth her slightly. His eyes darkened as he looked over at his son.

"Joshua Eruzione, what have I told you about taking slap shots when the goalie isn't wearing a helmet!"

"No slap shots," he answered, barely above a whisper.

"Right, son. So, tell me why you would do such a careless thing."

"I was only trying to beat her," he yelled back, throwing his stick onto the ground. "I hate hockey. I never want to play again."

Chapter 1: Painstakingly Reality

_March 1998_

_Sara Eruzione_

My father and Josh were at it again. Josh was threatening that he was going to quit hockey (that's what he always said), and my father was telling him that he was selfish to waste his talent. Over the years, it had grown more than unbearable to deal with their constant arguments. Most of them always pertained to me, and Josh made sure that he'd rub it in my face every opportunity that dad wasn't around. Somehow, he _still _held a grudge against me for that day I made my very first goal, and also the day where I took a puck to the forehead. Dad had, from that day forward, been interested in training me from the next week (after I recovered from my injuries.)

Josh blamed me for my father's lack of interest in his hockey gear. If only he knew that I didn't admire the sport. Hell, hockey was just something that I was good at, and it wasn't something that I loved. Sure, there was always the thrill of making a goal or stopping a difficult shot, but there was always something missing. And I couldn't help but bring it up as dad and Josh started to bicker over hockey teams. It drove me up and down a wall that they ate, breathed, and slept hockey.

I, on the other hand, just wanted to get into photography, which was my passion from the very start.

"Honey?"

I broke out of my trance, and dropped the fork that I had been playing with. My mashed potatoes and peas were completely mixed, and I could only look on in disgust. I _hated _peas.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I mumbled, glancing over at my brother.

Josh was, as usual, writing down plays and formations into his beloved hockey notebook. Dinner always seemed to be his most inspirational time, but to be honest- it only annoyed me. For once, I could only _hope _that my dad and brother could have a simple dinner with me, but it always turned out into this huge hockey feud about what was the better position, and what was the number one thing a hockey player should always keep in mind.

"You haven't touched your dinner at all. Are you feeling well?"

Josh also took this moment to look me over, and I was taken back by the worry that reflected in his eyes.

I took a deep breath as I stared at the both of them. Keeping secrets was never something I was good at, but this secret was just killing my self-esteem. It was breaking me away from the only friend's I had ever know- the girl's high school team. My best friend, Liz, was the team captain, and it made me sick to my stomach that not even she knew the truth.

"I'm just bummed," I commented as I stared at my plate of food uneasily.

"About what?" Josh piped up.

I sighed.

"Hockey." There, I had said it. Surprisingly, I didn't feel any better. I only felt worse. If I told my biggest secret to two of the biggest hockey fanatics in the world- they'd hate me forever, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to be disowned by the only family I had.

"Josh, can you excuse Sara and I for a moment?"

He tried to protest, but he finally admitted defeat as he stomped all the way upstairs to his bedroom. Moments later, his door slammed shut, and I couldn't help but feel a million times worse.

"Sara, what is going on with you? For the past couple of months you've been unusually quiet, and you don't even bother hanging out with any of your teammates." He paused. "Wait. Are you and Elizabeth fighting again?"

I stiffened. My father would never address her as Liz for his own bizarre reasons. I just stared as he looked at me.

Finally, I shook my head.

"No dad. I'm bored of the same thing day after day. Nothing changes. I wake up at eight to go to practice. I come home at noon, and then I listen to you and Josh argue over more hockey stuff. Somehow, you manage to make me feel bad and I play more hockey for you. When that's over with, we come in for dinner. Josh writes down plays. You argue that they're foolish and not thought out. He argues that you're not open-minded. I sit here quietly and hope that I could fade away."

Honesty had never felt so bad. I had expected my father to lash out at me for making my own life boring, but I think that he realized how true it all was.

"If you're this upset, darling, why didn't you say anything?"

"I couldn't, dad. I'm just tired of living life like hockey is the only thing worth it out there." My words grew softer. "I loved hockey at first because it was so fresh, so new. Everything was so exciting because things were always different from day to day. The moment that I joined the school's hockey team- you set up this grueling schedule that revolved around hockey. It's suffocating me, dad."

Our heart-to-heart chat didn't seem to last long because his words had grown surprisingly cold. His expression was hardly unreadable, and I found it unbearable to even make eye contact with him.

"If that's how you feel, then you don't have to play hockey when you come home. I always thought you liked it and all…" The conversation had grown so awkward that fishing for the appropriate words was next to impossible.

"I do." I pursed my lips. "I just want to experience other things. I want to be in a club that has nothing to do with hockey, and I want friend's that don't even know what the sport is."

"If that's what you wish." His eyes drooped, and I saw that he was in deep thought. I knew that whatever he was going to say next was going to be painful. "I only hope that your mother could be here to see this," he whispered so softly that I wasn't even sure that I had heard him correctly. "She would be so proud of your perseverance, Sara."

At the mention of my mother's name, I had broken into tears. She had died ten minutes after I was born while she was still cradling me in her arms. Apparently there had been internal bleeding that the doctors never even knew was there…until it was too late.

"And if you're unsure about hockey, I would recommend taking a break. I'll tell Coach Jacobs that you're ill and unable to attend hockey practice for two weeks- doctors orders."

I broke out into a smile and ran to hug my father.

"But, in return for this, I want you to help Josh. He's having a lot of problems, and your insight would be greatly appreciated."

"Maybe I could offer suggestions." I shrugged. Josh wasn't willing to help, especially if it was _my _help.

"Ever since that game they were slaughtered 10-0, the boy has lost all confidence in his abilities. I asked one of my old teammates son's to help lead him in the right direction, but he won't arrive until at least noon tomorrow."

My heart started to thump in my chest. It was no surprise that my father was part of the miracle team, but the shocking thing was that he hardly kept in contact with his old teammates anymore. When they all went back to their hometowns, everyone began settling down to have a family. Unfortunately, contact was so rare these days that only a phone call or even two a year was a surprise. So, I was more than shocked to hear that someone from my dad's team was actually willing to ship over his son to help out with hockey.

"Which teammate?" seemed to be the only thing I could ask.

"Jack O'Callahan"

My entire world felt as if it had shifted from beneath me. Jack was the one that I had always thought was adorable (from the photographs in 1980). So, I could only imagine how good-looking his son was, and that was the part that scared me enough. My life had been so involved with hockey that I had hardly dated boys because they didn't appreciate my natural talent with sports.

"Wow. I haven't heard that name in years."

He could only nod his head. "His son is Josh's age, so do me a favor and try not to embarrass your brother too much, and if the rolls are reversed- don't take any crap from the two of them. You know how crazy boys are."

I smiled. "Yeah. Boys will be boys."

"So, since I have work tomorrow, would you mind being kind enough to pick him up at the airport?"

I could hardly breathe, and I could only imagine what would happen if I was the _only _person entertaining him on the rather long, boring drive back. So, I did the only thing I could. I agreed like the idiot that I am.

"Sure."

He smiled and ruffled my hair; he was about to walk off into the kitchen when I called his name.

"Dad!"

"Yeah?"

"Does Josh know about this arrangement?"

"Sort of," he answered back. "Your brother knows half of it. I've left your presence out, so that the two of you could hopefully break the ice and stop hating each other."

"I wish…" I mumbled. I was fatigued, confused, and intrigued at the same time. But I could only play the conversation with my dad over and over again in my head. It could have been his way to get me to like hockey, but nobody was going to be able to change that. I was going to have to see for myself what hockey truly meant and if it had any affect whatsoever on me.

_Josh_

It was predictable and nauseating for my father to send me off to my room as if I was three-years-old. To be quite honest, I was really interested in what Sara had to say about hockey. She had always been so wonderful at it that I never took a moment to think that it wasn't what made her happy. Okay, so I had eavesdropped on most of the conversation, but I was completely worried about her. Even though I pretended to be the world's worst brother, I still cared about her, and I think that that's something she doesn't want to accept, anymore.

Hockey was _her _gift. It never came easy for me. I worked ten times harder than she did just to produce the same results. I asked myself hundreds of times what it was that motivated me, but I could never find an answer. I was far too busy trying to decipher what pushed my sister to play. It bothered me so much because that girl had so much drive and ambition, but she had simply misplaced it all.

Although- I wasn't too thrilled to hear that she was 'going' to coach me along with Jack O' Callahan's blessed son. Perhaps I should have been pleased that such an amazing player was interested in helping me, but I honestly wanted to decline the help, the offer. Hockey was something I didn't need to be taught- my father did it flawlessly. It cut a deep wound into my chest to hear that _he _couldn't be the one to help me, but unfortunately he had a job to attend to, and money was one of our biggest concerns. You'd think that a man with such a reputation as Mike Eruzione- that he'd earn a little money or respect from all of his hard work, but the truth was he hardly got anything out of it. The moment that he found out that my mother was pregnant, (two days after the Olympic win) he refused to pull himself into the limelight. Instead, he became a good man and he married my mother shortly after.

The press and the NHL association were not impressed with his ignorance, (which wasn't the truth. He wasn't ignorant!) so they basically threw all of the limelight onto the other players. Soon my father was hardly even recognized. No one sent him fan mail. We didn't get weird phone calls from girls professing their undying love for him. He just fell off the face of the hockey world, and to imagine- he had dropped out of college just to have a life. In the end, he hardly got shit from anyone, and he had to pick up a full-time job. Now, with a mortgage and two kids to soon run through college- he was always working himself to the bone. It made me absolutely furious that he treated hockey like he did those many years ago. He argued that I wasn't using my head, and that it was important that I worked myself to the bone because natural talent was something I had, unfortunately _lost_.

Somehow, I managed to stumble through the kitchen without disturbing my father, who was reading a hockey magazine. Surprise. Surprise. It was a good thing too because I wasn't in the mood to argue with him at that very moment. Instead, I found Sara sprawled out on the sofa in the living room- indulging herself in a rather boring program on Discovery Channel.

"Hey."

I knew it wasn't the smoothest move to make, but I _had _to say something. I just needed for her to know that I overheard the whole conversation. Truthfully, I was so angry with her for not objecting. She knew that the two of us hardly got along for more than a few minutes. I was too hot-heated and she was the levelheaded one. We clashed so badly that the only thing we really scared in common was hockey, and for the life of me- I didn't want to lose that too.

Sara may not be my favorite person in the world, but she was wiser than most seventeen-year-olds that I knew.

"Hi," she mumbled back.

"I know," was the only thing I bothered to say as I joined her on the sofa.

She choked on the water that she had been drinking and turned to face me.

"How?"

She was absolutely livid.

"I overheard it." I shrugged. Okay, so maybe that had been a very poor move on my part.

"Ugh! You make me so angry. You're so stupid and nosey too!"

I hadn't expected any of her reactions, but I slipped back into my mean mode, my defense mechanism.

"I may be stupid and nosey, but I am both of these things for a good cause."

The war would rage, momentarily. Fighting was, somewhat, refreshing and neither of us knew how to back down.

Sara snorted.

"There's a lot more to it than that," she accused sarcastically.

"If that's what you choose to believe."

I could only shrug my shoulders at her comment. So, maybe she had reasons to treat me the way that she did, but I wasn't even _trying _to argue with her. I only wanted to talk, to see if she'd back out on her end of the deal. The last thing I needed my teammates to thing- was that my little sister was giving me hockey pointers. Wasn't it supposed to go the other way?

"It is."

The TV program seemed to be more than amusing because a minute later she asked why I was still standing there. Instead of starting yet another fight, I just started to walk away. Perhaps I'd have better luck talking to my dad about the circumstances, but I was just plain sick of fighting with everyone. On more than one occasion, I had been attempted to run far way. That plan, unfortunately, crumbled before I could even tune the fine details.

- - -

Dad was sitting in his office, watching the USA team he had been on in the 80's. It wasn't the infamous game where they triumphed over the Russians. No. It was one of their early games. He had always been fascinated with the game, and watching these repeats helped him to feel more like he was that young, college hockey player. His life was thriving when the United States was falling apart. It was funny how he enjoyed looking back on these things.

"Dad."

"Hmm?"

I knew that he was off in his little zone. Talking to him was going to be more than difficult. I didn't want to sound stupid or stubborn or maybe even mean for trying to get my sister out of this ground mess, but I knew it would strengthen our relationship because we were both getting something we wanted out of the situation.

"I want to talk about Sara and her…umm…coaching me."

For a moment, I had just figured that he had not heard what I said, but as I was about to repeat my statement- he started to talk.

"You know, the greatest coaches are the ones that push you the hardest and piss you off, but you end up loving them in the long run when it all pays off."

I wasn't quite sure what his statement had to do with Sara, but my father didn't ever say anything that didn't have a purpose. He was always the type of guy that couldn't just straight out tell you something. He had to make you figure out what he was saying.

"Actually, I was thinking that maybe you could completely give Sara a break from hockey. Her helping me won't be necessary. Besides, her heart isn't in the sport, and it's not fair to make her help me with something that doesn't make her happy."

"You're right, Josh. But you've seemed to completely overlook my intentions, son. This is the sort of thing that you can _both_ benefit from."

It's weird how I had been thinking about the exact same thing only minutes earlier.

"I don't know, dad," I started wearily. "I think that Jack's son can handle it."

I didn't realize that I may have come off as a bit of an asshole, but my father was quick to pick up on what I had said.

"I think I know what your problem is…" He _finally _paused the game he had been intently studying. "You're embarrassed because Sara is a girl. It's obvious."

I was, for lack of a better word, flabbergasted. In less than two minutes, he had figured out what was going on in my mind. I was slightly edgy from his statement, and I wanted to object so badly. There was a problem. I really didn't like to lie…for anything.

"I don't know." I ran a hand through my hair. "I just think that I'm capable of fixing my own mistakes."

He shook his head.

"If Coach Brooks heard you speaking like that, he'd immediately kick you off of the team."

"Wait. Wouldn't he have wanted for me to succeed?" I was confused.

"Sure, but not with an attitude like that. Do you think that you know every one of your hockey problems? Are you positive that you know how to go about correcting them? Are you sure you know how to be a team player?"

His accusations were more than I could stand, but I bit my tongue. No fights. I repeated it as if it was my only mantra.

"I'm sure," I answered smoothly.

"You have a bad attitude, son. I think that's the first thing you need to work on. So, you can't actually play hockey for a week."

My eyes narrowed at him. I had always hated his methods, the way that he pushed me. He acted as if he knew everything about hockey, but he didn't. I didn't like how he automatically knew what was best, and how he acted as if he was _my _coach.

"But how can I possibly get better at hockey if I don't play?" I shouted.

He didn't seem to think it was a big deal because he just took a deep breath.

"You have a lot to learn. You've tried to take a crash course in hockey over the years. In return, you have huge gaps in your performance, your stamina, and the way that you see the game. Once you straighten these things out, Jack's son _and _Sara will assist you in the basic fundamentals of hockey. You're starting fresh." He paused. "Forget everything that you've learned about hockey. It's useless."

I wanted to object, but it was going to get me nowhere. Instead, I nodded my head and started to walk away. I could only hope that my teammates weren't going to hear about this, and that Jack's son wasn't going to be the biggest thorn in my side.

Author's Note 2: Usually, I'm going to be breaking down each of the chapters with only Sara and Josh's point of view. There isn't a lot to work with here, but if you give the story some time and a decent chance- I promise you that things will get interesting for you hockey lovers. You need to start somewhere, and this is the place. Next chapter is where Jack's son comes into the picture… and well- you'll see how things unfold.

There are some other important things I should point out before I even get into this story further. This could be slow updating, or it could be fast. My motivation is usually determined by reviewer's comments because that is the only reason I'm writing this story. This story is for everyone who wants a miracle of his or her own. So, please don't get anxious about the length of the chapters… or the length of my notes. I like to communicate with my reviewers. I picked this up a lot because I write a lot over on fictionpress. So, if you guys have any problems with that- maybe we'll try to work something out, okay?

Now, I need some reviews to tell me how I'm doing, and if it's worth continuing. The story is now in your hands.

MMHMM


	2. Day Two

**Disclaimer: I do not own L.A. or anything else mentioned in this chapter besides the characters and plot I have set up.**

_Chapter 2_

_Sara_

The entire morning I had been forced to endure a highly stressful amount of whining from Josh. At the very last second, he grabbed me by the arm and pleaded that Jack's son could hold no part in this. I only smiled weakly and pried his fingers from my arm. Before I could get to the door, he called out to me again, and I probably would have kept going if he hadn't said the next thing.

"Sara, I'm scared and embarrassed."

Anyone could have said that I was falling into a trap, but Josh was pretty much the typical guy. He was fascinated with sports, he liked to drink beer, and he wasn't particularly fond with getting in touch with his emotions or sharing them with others. For those main reasons, I chose to stop and humor him.

"That's normal, J. It happens to everyone."

My response didn't seem to satisfy him enough because he was still standing there with hopeful eyes. It was sad that there was so much I had to say, but I knew that it would never mean much for my brother. He was always on the go, and patience was definitely not one of his virtues.

"You're human, Josh. It's only natural that we feel."

"You're missing the point."

It was always the part of the conversation where Josh and I butted heads. Our views on mostly everything clashed so badly that I was positive we'd never share anything in common.

"I think you have it backwards," I huffed. "Go back to bed and don't wake up until you start thinking with that head of yours. That's why you were given it, J. So please use it." I figured that he didn't catch my sarcasm or the joking nature in my voice. Honestly. I had only been trying to lighten the mood, to prevent yet another fight. Unfortunately, it seemed like a fight was the only real option.

"You're such a bitch. I wish that dad heard you talking like this. He'd say that you weren't fit to be…"

"Fit to be what?"

I nearly jumped at the addition of another voice.

"Hi dad," I added quietly. If only I could distract him for long enough. "I was just working out a few things with Josh before I pick up Jack's son," I told him calmly.

"It's Mr. O'Callahan to you," he told me bitterly.

"And yes, Sara. I did overhear the entire conversation."

My eyes fell and I could only feel like an embarrassment.

"It leaves me no choice but to change rolls a bit."

"What?" I cried out. I didn't want my brother to teach me. He was inexperienced, and he treated hockey like he treated his girlfriends, and that was definitely not meant to be good.

"Sara, shut up."

We could only wait as he stood there quietly. He ran a hand through his chair, and then looked over at my brother who was finding the ceiling rather entertaining. "Josh, I think it's best that you let your sister and me discuss this in private."

"Sure."

I could sense nothing but relief in my brother's voice. If only I could have felt the same way.

The entire walk to my father's office, I had this feeling in my stomach that wouldn't go away. It was as if I needed to throw up but I couldn't. The feeling only intensified the moment that he shut his office's door rather hard. He marched towards his desk, never bothering to turn around. I couldn't help but feel nauseous at how easily my father ignored me. For him, this sort of thing was out of character. He was the wonderful nice father who never pushed his children into things that they didn't want to be pushed into. So, I couldn't understand why he was acting so distant and cruel.

I could only hope that he wasn't going through a mid-life crisis.

"Sara."

His voice had been so soft that I barely heard him.

"Huh?" I tried to stay calm to show him that I wasn't worried about how strange he was acting.

"I sort of lied to you earlier."

I blinked, not quite digesting what he had to say.

"What are you saying?"

My bottom lip quivered, and I couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable as he started to explain the truth.

"I mean, I was telling the truth about Jack's son joining us. He's going to help Josh, to start hockey fresh." He suddenly broke off as he turned around to stare at his wall of awards and trophy's. It was actually a small collection, but I knew damn well that he held so much pride for accomplishing his goals and getting a reward in return. "It's…just…that I left out a few things." I wasn't sure if I wanted the awkward moment to continue… "Sara, you need to understand that I love you with all of my heart. I would never do something or make a rash decision unless it was in your benefit."

I could only blink as I stared at my father's back. I really had no clue what he was getting at, and a part of me didn't want to know.

"And I decided that _you _are to start hockey fresh along with your brother. Maybe you can start to feel love for hockey again. Maybe you'll just hate it worse. Either way, I want for you and your brother to have something in common. I hate when the two of you fight. You're blood! It should mean so much more."

I started to tune all of it out as I realized how much it was starting to resemble speeches my father would give to the hockey team he used to teach before we moved out to L.A. three years ago.

"I don't understand, dad," I croaked. "We're family. We're blood," I mocked, "so I can't seem to understand why _you _would misrepresent to me about something of this magnitude." I carefully licked my licks as I peered up at the clock. I had to leave in five minutes to pick up Jack's son, and I wasn't in the least bit motivated to go.

"It's not the time to flash your huge vocabulary at me, young lady. In fact, I really see no reasons why you would be this upset. So, here is my peace offering. If you give this boy and me _one _chance—then I will send him back home if things don't work out. I'll let you go find your own calling. But if things do work out, you have to promise to apologize to me for ever doubting my motives, Sara."

For the next two minutes, his words hung heavily in my mind, but I couldn't seem to shake the fact that he was right in his own way. My father hardly asked anything from me, and I knew it was the opportune moment to take this risk for him. Besides, if things wouldn't work out, I could always rub it in his face that he was wrong…

"Okay," I finally agreed. "Truce."

We eventually shook on it, but by the time that things were temporarily patched up—it had been time to pick up Jack's son. I wasn't particularly worried about his experience or his teaching skills. I was mostly worried that he was just as upset at the arrangement as my brother and I were. Instead of wondering about it the entire ride to the airport, I turned on the radio and fiddled with the dial until I came to a broadcast of a local high school hockey team.

-x-x-x-x-

Waiting in the airport for someone I didn't know was more than uncomfortable. I was waiting in the seating area, staring up at the wall. The jittery feeling in my stomach intensified the moment that the flight from Dallas, Texas was on schedule. That meant that Jack's son would be getting off of the plane in less than five minutes, so I tried to look presentable, but it didn't do much justice. My hair was frizzy, and there were bags under my eyes from lack of sleep. My body was slumped and drained of any energy for skipping breakfast. I hadn't had an appetite all morning, which was slightly abnormal for me.

Somehow, knowing me, I had managed to fall into a light slumber. The next thing I remembered was someone tapping my shoulder, softly. I stirred and started to mutter a bunch of unnecessary curse words as my eyes fluttered open and I jumped from my seat.

"Who are you?" I tested.

I looked him up and down. He was young enough to be Jack's son, but he seemed older than I had imagined.

"Hunter O'Callahan," he whispered.

I could hardly breathe. I didn't want to be there, and I didn't want him to teach me.

"And would you be the young lady I'm supposed to meet here?"

He seemed really hesitant, as if he wasn't sure if he was saying the right things to a complete stranger.

"How did you know who to look for?" I asked, completely ignoring his previous statement.

Before he answered, I noticed that he was carrying a huge Adidas gym bag that was filled to the point where it was bulging more than it was naturally supposed to. In his other hand, he was holding a cup of coffee that I had imagined he had picked up before he went on his long trek to hunt me down. At his feet, there was one suitcase and then a small duffle bag beside it. I looked at it apprehensively. After all, I had never asked my father how long Jack's son—well, how long Hunter was staying.

"Mr. Eruzione told me what you looked like. He told me where I'd most likely find you, and he called this morning to make sure that I wouldn't have any difficulties…so he explained what you were wearing, and it was almost impossible to miss you." He laughed. "You stick out like a sore thumb here. I mean, the black, white, and silver combination isn't exactly that common these days, but what is, ya know?"

I smiled inwardly. His way of making small talk was by babbling, but it was slightly refreshing to hear bits and pieces of his accent; it was so southern.

"Lets go, then." I reached down and grabbed his suitcase, which was much to his dismay and protest. Unfortunately, I happened to be very stubborn, and I was about twenty steps in front of him when he had stopped his annoying game. The only bad thing about Hunter was that he always wanted to talk. He was an open-book, and he always had something to say or something to ask. He was the equivalent of someone who ate, breathed, and slept shopping. He was obsessed with talking, which was more than weird.

"So, what's yer name?"

"Sara."

I made sure that my answers were short. I didn't need to tell him anymore than he needed to know. It didn't matter how god looking he was.

"How old are ya?"

"Seventeen," I answered tiredly.

"Wow. Still in high school I see." He paused thoughtfully. "I guess your brother is younger than you?"

I nodded.

"How old are _you_?" I asked curiously. Honestly, I wasn't really worried about his age. I felt that the less I knew about him that the less I'd have to remember. His answer actually seemed delayed, which annoyed me at first. I had figured that he was ignoring me or that he hadn't heard me at all. I was in the midst of repeating my question when he spoke.

"Twenty. Almost twenty one."

"You're old," I commented as I pulled into the driveway of my house.

He laughed genuinely.

"That's the first time I've ever heard that one."

"Well, there's a first for all things Mr. O'Callahan."

I smiled as I started to grab his suitcase. Once again, he had held up a fight, but once I pointed out that it was a good way to help train…well, he didn't have many objections. For that, I was relieved. Growing up in an all boys household has always been tough, but what I've learned about hockey had been from my brother and father. The weird thing was that I wasn't bad at hockey. I hadn't lost the meaning of the sport. I wasn't making fatal error after fatal error. Yet, my father insisted that I needed the training as well, and if there would have been any way out of it—I would have been the first one jumping on the bandwagon. But dad always had a plan. As unwilling as I was to accept everything, I knew that he had a purpose for this whole training thing, and I could only hope that it was a good one.

"I'll give you a tour later. Actually, I'll let my father do that." I dropped Hunter's suitcases. "Jeez, that weighs a ton," I complained. "Josh!" I shouted. "Dad."

Moments later, both of them were standing in the foyer. Dad was smiling, always welcoming, and Josh was staring at the ground. I noticed the frown in disappointment in his eyes as he saw how pleased I was. I think that he got the impression that I was bailing on him, but the reality was that Hunter was actually a decent guy who was relatively easy to get along with. The only downfall was that he talked more than I cared to listen to.

"This is Hunter. Hunter this is my dad, Eric and my brother Josh Eruzione."

Everyone exchanged hellos and handshakes. I was surprised to see that Josh and Hunter got along so well, but my happiness soon faded away as I truly realized how unhappy Josh was. He was engaged in a conversation about hockey, but it seemed as if Hunter always had the more interesting stories or experiences to recollect on. I shot my brother a sympathetic look, truly feeling his pain. Hunter was the type of guy whose talking was bound to lead him into trouble someday. He was very opinionated, and somehow I felt this need to stick up for my brother, which was a rarity in its own.

"You know," I interrupted, "having such a strong opinion will end you up in nothing but trouble."

"What do you suppose I do?" Hunter asked smoothly. "If I didn't have an opinion, I'd just fade in with everyone else. I take great pride in being who I am."

Josh smiled wryly. "Is that living vicariously through your father's fame?"

I was sure that Hunter would have muttered some sort of cunning response, but he did nothing of the sort.

"Not really. Besides, I hardly see my father. Almost no one knows that I'm his son, after all."

I had to admit, I was completely interested with what he had to say. Josh and I had assumed that he was on good terms with his father, and that they had planned out the whole thing… perhaps we had been wrong. Instead of pushing into his personal affairs, I decided to ease the conversation back towards something less risky.

"How long have you played hockey, Hunter?"

"Ever since I was old enough to hold a hockey stick."

"How long _is _that?" I prodded.

He raised his eyebrow.

"Maybe I should just show you," he uttered cockily. "Suit up. This is going to be your first lesson."

"Umm…our dad says we're not allowed to actually play hockey yet."

"I already knew that," he explained, slightly annoyed. "But get into your uniforms. You have to feel like a hockey player and you need to be dressed the part if you expect to make any progress."

To be quite frank, Hunter's reasoning only confused us, but he was our coach. Instead of being annoying idiots, we did as we were told and met him out on the back porch. It was so cold, and I had almost wished that I was wearing gloves or that my face had more coverage. I groaned as I took a seat on the steps next to my brother.

"J, if he turns out to be the most vindictive asshole of a coach, I am going to kill you once this is all over."

"It isn't my fault," he whispered in his annoying, cheerful voice.

x-x-x-x-x

Practice was something I knew I'd dread, and I had been absolutely right. When it came town to it, Hunter was an ice hockey Nazi. He ordered us to sit on the steps to the porch as he explained a few things. For the most part, Josh and I had managed to zone out on most of it. Unfortunately Hunter was more than displeased with our lack of concern.

"You have no drive, no ambition. No wonder hockey is so difficult."

'No, you're difficult,' I thought to myself. He was only three years older than me—four at most. It was hard to accept orders or listen to someone who lacked so much experience. I would have preferred for my father to do the job, and as I was stuck listening to Hunter, I could only wonder why he stuck us with someone so young.

"All right. Maybe we all started off on the wrong foot. I'm here to help you guys find what you've lost. I'm not trying to ruin your lives. Plus, I only do what I'm paid to do."

The next time that I saw my father, I couldn't wait to confront him. He had more than lied. He never mentioned paying Hunter or even letting him live in our house for so long. In fact, no one even spoke of how long Hunter was staying. I guess dad figured that it'd be a while considering all things.

"Well, I have homework to do," I piped up, getting to my feet shakily. "I didn't mean to intrude on this lesson or whatever, but I need to get to work. You know what high school is like, right?" Josh got to his feet after me and said almost the same thing except his version was a lot crueler.

"Wait. You don't even know what public high school is like. You were a private school loser," Josh added angrily. "I don't take orders from people like you."

I felt a queasy feeling settle in the bottom of my stomach as my eyes met Hunter's. He looked sad. This was an emotion coming from the boy who was so happy and always with a smile on his face. I frowned and started to walk away. The damage had been done, and I could only hope that Josh's asshole tendencies were enough to make Hunter up and leave. After all, he was just too damn young to be any good."

I reached the screen door, but something told me to turn around. When I did, Hunter was sitting in the middle of the snow looking very dejected. Josh had crossed the line, and there was nothing I could do about it. He had his own opinions and so did I. Feeling very self-pitying, I started to walk towards him. I was positive that he didn't even hear me coming. He was playing with some sort of medal. It looked like bronze. Third place.

Things did not make sense.

Our father wouldn't have hired Hunter O'Callahan unless he was the best of the best. It had to be after careful consideration. My father didn't make rash decisions, but I wasn't so sure about this one.

"Nice medal," I commented. "I have a few bronze. That's about it. Maybe some paper medals from when I was under ten and I was the most promising female athlete in our high school at the time." I took a deep breath. "After we moved here, I was nothing special. You would never imagine how much L.A.'s hockey scene has blown up. Girls get a lot of credit, but if you're not well known—you easily become just another wannabe. So, before you start to turn into a whole asshole and get angry with my brother, remember that moving to this place wasn't easy for us. We had to start over, Coach. Josh is just bitter because our dad feels that he needs outsider interventions."

I didn't know why I was trying to convince him about our past, but I felt obligated to. Hunter was, over all, a nice guy. He needed to put down his barriers. He needed to have something in common with my brother and myself before he got anywhere. We needed to share some type of bond before it would work.

"You'd be surprised by how much we _do _have in common," he muttered icily. "And I'm _your _coach. Excuses for foolish behavior does not fly with me. So next time that you are defending your brother, make sure you have something better than a sob story."

His lashing out was so unexpected. Maybe he had taken the comments to heart, which made me feel slightly guilty. I was trying to make this easy for all of us, but Hunter didn't like when I intervened with affairs that had nothing to do with me.

"And," I started cockily, "next time that you feel like being an insensitive cretin, please give me an advanced warning. I'll make sure to avoid you at all costs." The anger resonated in my voice, and much to my dismay Hunter was amused.

"Your bite is a lot worse than your bark."

He stuffed his medal into his pocket and finally stood off the mound of snow.

As we started to walk away, I couldn't help but apologize. He wouldn't accept.

"Please, Coach. Let's just get to know one another before we start training. It'd be nice if we were all on the same page."

He simply nodded.

"If Josh is willing, then so am I."

He smiled and took a seat at the kitchen counter.

"Now, I'm starving. What do you have to eat, Eruzione?"

My smile fell. For a moment, I had almost thought that we had breeched past the formalities. Sure, I called him Coach out of respect, but why did he call me Eruzione? I was Sara.

"Call me Sara."

"I'm your coach. That wouldn't be too professional."

x-x-x-x-x

Needless to say, Josh had refused to join us for lunch. Dad had tried everything to convince him, but that was Josh. When he had something in his mind, he was deadest. He wouldn't change his mind unless there was a good enough reason to do so. And because of my brother's absence, it made lunch awkward.

"I'm so sorry about this Hunter. I didn't know that Josh would be this stubborn."

"It's not your fault Mr. Eruzione. I can understand where he's coming from."

"You do?" I just couldn't help but add myself into the conversation.

"Yeah. I was once in the same boat as Josh. I know what it's like to hit rock bottom, and I know what it's like to have to fight to make a difference. When I started heading down the wrong path—"

I glanced up, surprised to see my brother sitting in the chair beside me.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Having a bad day."

I looked over at dad, who wasn't the least bit pleased. I had expected him to scream and shout at Josh like he usually did, but that didn't happen. He played with his soup and made small talk with Hunter. I couldn't help but feel that Hunter was going to be the favorite around here, and as my eyes locked with Josh—I knew that he was thinking the same exact thing.

**Note from the author:**

**As this story progresses, the chapters will eventually get longer. I update this as often as I can. Oh yes. Next chapter we'll get into a bit of hockey, and we'll start to learn Hunter's past. So, stick around if that sounds interesting to you. And not to mention that the kids are going back to school—seeing as it's going to be Monday when I start next chapter. So, please review and let me know how I'm doing.**

**MMHMM**


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